Lost with Lula
by jnharrow
Summary: Written for Rosa's Lost challenge at Perfectly Plum


Disclaimer: I don't own any of JE's characters and I'm not making any money on this story.

Note: I hope the challenge hasn't ended and that I've uploaded this correctly. I've never submitted anything to a Yahoo group before.

#19 Rosa's Lost Challenge: (1) The scenario - two or more Plum characters in a wood, any reason for being there. (2) The concept - tell a story which includes the word 'lost' as a theme.

Lost with Lula by jnharrow

I stared at the car on the side of the road in front of me.

It taunted me, sitting there quietly smoking, the harsh late afternoon sunlight bouncing off its bright surfaces and directly into my eyes.

That its driver had left in a hurry was clear by the dark streaks of tire marks where the road met the gravel pull-off area and the door hanging open on the driver's side. The reason for the abrupt stop was also pretty clear; smoke poured out from under the hood of the electric blue Dodge Dart. What were the odds that the smoke would be of the 'where there's smoke, there's fire' variety?

With me involved? Pretty darn good. Or bad. However you wanted to look at it.

I sighed and rested my head on the steering wheel of my 'new to me' green Jeep Wrangler. It was in fairly good condition for one of my cars, but its broken air conditioning was a serious down side, especially in this typical Jersey summer weather. At least while we'd been moving, the breeze from the open windows had alleviated the oven-like conditions somewhat, but now the hot, humid air settled over me like an oppressive, damp blanket which, now that the air was still, reeked of Lula's mishmosh of perfume trials, applied earlier in the day at Macy's.

"Guess we lost him," Lula said, not sounding very upset about it. "Better start heading back."

I turned my head on the wheel and looked at her. "He's in the woods in the middle of nowhere and has no car. Probably, he doesn't know this area any better than we do. We should at least try to find him."

Lula's expression turned mulish. "No way, girl. No way am I goin' in those woods chasin' some hundred-dollar skip. 'Specially not when we missed lunch. I need some food before I do anything else today."

Lifting my head, I eyed the sweaty patch on the center of the steering wheel where it had rested. Yuck. Swiping a frizzy curl out of my eyes, I tried to reason with her. "He's seventy-eight. He could have a heart attack running around in this weather. Nobody would find him in there."

"He can rot in there, for all I care. Stupid old fool, going in the woods. Why'd he run anyway?" Lula fumed. "Wasn't no damn murder charge."

Our skip had suffered a senior moment and walked out of a restaurant coat check area with an umbrella that wasn't his. Well, actually, five umbrellas that weren't his, which did make it harder 

to claim an honest mistake. One of them, unfortunately, had belonged to Officer Picky's grandmother, who had, of course, pressed charges. Personally, I would've retaliated and charged Grandma Picky with attempted assault. She'd chased after him, grabbed her umbrella back and taken several wild swings at his head. Fortunately, turns out Mr. Carter is spry for his age. Also, he's a good ducker.

"And that car," Lula continued, "what's an old guy doing with that car? You see an old guy you expect a Caddy or a Buick--"

I glared at her, thinking of the indestructible Buick that I had returned two days ago. I instantly forgave my jeep for not possessing AC and patted the dash fondly.

Unbuckling the seatbelt, I opened my door and looked back at her. "Lula--"

"No. No way. Could be that Jersey Devil lives in there. I don't do woods. Gimme a nice mall or apartment building, I'll be there backin' you up. But I don't do woods."

"He doesn't exist. If he did, he'd be in the Pine Barrens anyway and we're nowhere near there."

"Yeah? You on his Christmas card list? You got his address? He coulda moved. Maybe he didn't like all that fame. Or could be his brother lives here. You don't know."

Why me?

"Ok, you stay here. Probably you'll be able to defend yourself just fine if he comes out here. Just keep your pepper spray handy." My sneakers crunched on gravel. When I turned back from shutting the door, Lula was in front of me.

Today I envied her the stretchy, tiny halter she wore. My Rangers shirt was plastered to my back with sweat. The neon orange color she'd picked for her ensemble today was a lucky choice for us too. I wasn't sure when hunting season was, or what people hunted here, but I was pretty sure we weren't going to be mistaken for a deer. Or anything else from nature.

The path into the woods was well defined. That was good. I couldn't see frail Mr. Carter hacking his way through the brush like a forest commando. Out of nowhere, probably to dull the pain of the knowledge that I was actually entering the dark, bug-ridden forest, my mind conjured up an image of a certain commando I knew; he was shirtless and swinging a machete at the thick underbrush barring his path, his back muscles rippling under smooth mocha-colored skin gleaming with sweat--

"AAAAGGGGH!" Lula screamed behind me and I whirled, brandishing my possibly charged stun gun in the direction of the threat…that turned out to be an animal hole of some sort that had trapped her heel, sending her face first into the dried leaves and sticks of the path.

I waited patiently until the obscenities died down. "You ok?"

"Yeah," she grumbled. "Not my shoes though. These were hard to find!" I spied a suspicious shininess in her eyes.

The heat and Lula really didn't get along. Add the shoe casualty and she was one unhappy lady.

Probably she was right. You don't come across emergency cone colored platform heels every day. Especially not with sequins and bugle beads and...was that a subtle sprinkling of some glittery substance or something woven into the fabric? "After we take him in, we could maybe stop by the mall again." I cajoled her into standing up. We broke the other heel off so she was balanced and were off again, somewhat slower.

"You see any sign of him?" I asked after a while, smacking absently at some stinging pest on my neck.

"No." Lula said and sat down on a nearby fallen log to rest. The rotted wood gave way with a hollow sounding crunch and she floundered in the debris, trying to get up.

I ran to help her just as her eyes widened in panic.

"SNAKE!" Lula screamed. "SNAKE! GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT!" Shiny orange claws clutched my arms in a death grip and I hauled on her as hard as I could. She came loose and we both flew backwards, landing in some bushes on the other side of the path.

Lula was a blur. She leaped up and, moving faster than I'd ever seen her move, fled further into the forest. I wasn't too keen on meeting Mister Snake either and I couldn't lose Lula, so I chased after her.

After some indeterminate time, she stopped suddenly, collapsing on the ground, halter top heaving and seeming dangerously close to bursting its seams.

I flopped down next to her. When my breathing calmed, I asked, "Where was the snake? I didn't see it."

"I felt him slithering under my butt."

"You didn't see it?"

"Didn't have to see him. I felt him."

"But you didn't see it--"

She shot me a death glare. "It felt snaky. He was there. You wanna meet him so bad, you go back and find him." She returned her blank stare to the sky, where the sun no longer blazed through the trees.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and peered at it. No service. Shocker. "Huh."

"What?"

"It's later than I thought," I said. "It's seven thirty. Guess we were driving awhile when he was trying to lose us. We're gonna have give up on Mr. Carter. He can fend for himself."

"Yeah."

I looked at our surroundings. "Lula?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any idea which way the car is?"

Silence.

By the time we stumbled back onto the comforting gravel by the road it was midnight. I'd had my useless cell phone off for hours to conserve its charge. Now on, it showed plenty of bars. Stupid useless phone.

I shut the phone. In the moonlight, I could see the Dart, no longer smoking. Huh. That's good.

It was a moment before it hit me.

"Lula--"

"Don't talk to me, girl. We need to get in that car and you're gonna buy me some dinner. I'm practically wasting away--"

I interrupted, "Lula…didn't we leave the car right there?"

"The car's right--"

"Where there's nothing now."

"Yeah."

"Probably Mr. Carter's ok."

"Babe." Ranger plucked a twig out of the cavewoman frizz that was now my ponytail. I swear I could hear his almost smile in the tone of his voice.

"Don't say anything," I said. "It wasn't my fault." Really, it wasn't. Who would suspect a harmless seventy-eight year old umbrella snatcher of having serious hot wiring abilities? Not to mention the stealthy skulking around he presumably did waiting for us to go in after him. I wondered briefly if he'd shimmied up a tree or crouched behind a bush to evade us.

He opened the passenger side of the Bronco and handed me in silently. Lula was already ensconced in the back seat with Tank.

Ohhhhhhh. Air conditioning. Oh God, air conditioning. My head fell back and I closed my eyes, reveling in the cool, dry air.

Ranger slid into the driver's seat.

Oh, great. Now I was so tired and starved that I was hallucinating. I smelled fried chicken. Mmmmmm. Greasy, crispy, fried chicken. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that was likely. The thought of Cluck in a Bucket breaching the defenses of any vehicle owned by the health food king was almost enough to make me giggle. My stomach grumbled and I tried in vain to convince it that the peanut butter and olive sandwich that awaited me at home was just as good as fried chicken.

There was a gentle tap on my left shoulder and my eyes shot open. A drumstick levitated in front of my face. Ok, I was officially nuts. Great. No…a huge hand that could only belong to one person was holding said drumstick. Tank.

I stared at Ranger in shock.

Ranger gave me a long look and answered my unspoken question. "Tank thought you'd be hungry." He returned his eyes to the road.

I grabbed it and mumbled, "Thanks, Tank," around a mouthful of chicken.

"Don't even." I said, once I'd swallowed, catching Ranger glancing my way again. "We almost died out there. Starving to death in the middle of nowhere. I deserve a little chicken."

"And doughnuts!" Lula crowed from behind me.

"Not Tasty Pastry." Tank's deep voice rumbled apologetically. "They weren't open."

"Cluck in a Bucket was?" I asked, surprised.

"New hours." Tank said and handed me a soda.

"Oh." I filed the information for later use and took a slurp. "Handy."

"Babe--" Ranger interrupted our informational conversation, "middle of nowhere?"

"We could have died!" That's what I think Lula said, anyway. It was a little garbled; presumably, speech had been obstructed by a doughnut.

Now I was sure Ranger was trying not to smile. I could see him faintly lit by the dash lights and it looked like his blank face was slipping.

"What?" I demanded. "What's so funny about us being lost for hours?"

"It's a nature walk. Town's about 3 miles away," he replied in a carefully neutral tone. "That little patch of woods is surrounded on all sides by civilization. You either hit town, houses or this road whichever way you go."

"But…my cell had no service!"

He shrugged. "Must be a dead spot. Have 'em up and down this road."

I couldn't decide how to feel about that bit of information. I finished another piece of chicken while I mulled it over and decided I was too tired to be annoyed. Bet he was dying to know how 

we managed to stay lost for hours in that little bit of woods. I let him wonder. The truth was kind of obvious. You go in circles. A lot. We found the snake log a bunch more times before we got out. The last time we didn't even bother to run. Probably we didn't care if he bit us at that point.

I peered at him. He'd regained control and his face was again placid and inscrutable.

I reached my hand back and held it out palm up, waiting. A moment later, I brought it back cradling a Boston Crème. "Thanks, Tank."

I made quick work of the doughnut, sucking the last bits of cream and chocolate off my fingers --what the hell, I'd probably eaten a few bugs today, what was a little dirt-- and caught Ranger looking at me again. He didn't say anything though, and soon the road noise and quiet murmurs of Lula and Tank in the back made my eyelids droop closed.

I woke as I was being deposited gently onto a bed. I burrowed my head into the pillow and realized the sheets were super soft and smelled freshly laundered. I hadn't changed mine in a week.

I opened my eyes. "Ranger?" I can do one word questions too.

"Thought you could use the AC, Babe."

I made a noise of agreement. My place was beastly hot. I did feel a twinge of guilt that Rex wasn't enjoying the AC with me. And he had fur. Maybe I could get one of those little fans tomorrow and aim it in his cage. My conscience was easily soothed when I was this tired.

Something tickled at the edge of my brain and I groaned when I remembered it.

"Something wrong?" Ranger asked.

I put the pillow over my head. "I lost another car." I told the pillow.

The covers lifted and Ranger slid into bed behind me. He lifted the edge of the pillow. "Cal and Hal found it. They persuaded Mr. Carter to go into the station too."

I raised my head. "How?"

"GPS."

"Already? I've only had it two days!"

"Babe." He smiled.

Those GPS trackers were annoying but handy. Take that, you geriatric car thief! I half hoped he'd resisted.

Mmmm. This was good. Good sheets. Comfy. Good AC. Good guilt-free Ranger cuddling. Joe and I were off again. The only thing lacking was a shower with handfuls of Bvlgari to 

remove all traces of my woodland adventure, but that would have to wait until morning because I couldn't move. Ugh, I was so icky and Ranger smelled so good. How he could bear to be near me right now was a mystery to me. I could barely be near me.

"Thank you." I whispered to him.

"For what? You don't usually thank me when I go to your rescue in the middle of the night."

I don't? Huh. "For getting your truck all chickeny-smelling," I mumbled.

Wow. Ranger laughed. I haven't heard that very often. He dropped the pillow back onto my head and told me, "Go to sleep, Babe."

I did.


End file.
